


when the blood's run stale

by vanessamary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanessamary/pseuds/vanessamary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall always knew there had to be more people like him. People who were different. People who were special. It wasn’t until he was contacted by Dr. Deaton from the Beacon Hills Institute that he truly understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the blood's run stale

**Author's Note:**

> My humble apologies if there are any tense issues within the text, I couldn't be bothered to edit all 12k of it. Soz.
> 
> PLAYLIST: [ [xx] ](http://8tracks.com/vanessamary/when-the-blood-s-run-stale)

Scott McCall always knew there had to be more people like him. People who were different. People who were special. It wasn’t until he was contacted by Dr. Deaton from the Beacon Hills Institute that he truly understood. 

When he was a young boy, Scott didn’t know that what he could do was extraordinary. He heard people talking but they weren’t really talking and he just didn’t understand. He knew his mother had picked up on his abilities when she would look at him, brow furrowed and jaw dropped, when he asked questions about things she never said out loud. After that it was mostly hushed whispers and quick excuses whenever Scott’s abilities turned up. It wasn’t until he was sixteen, near the end of his sophomore year that Dr. Deaton knocked on the door of the McCall residence.

And the rest, they say is history.

Well, maybe not history, since that’s where he is right now – nervous and waiting, with his bottom lip between his teeth and his brow furrowed as he stands outside the Institute. 

The building wasn’t much to look at, all sleek edges and rectangular shapes, but Scott still felt nervous as he stood outside its doors with a rucksack by his feet and new thoughts running through his brain. He had finally gotten most of the outside voices quieted in his head when  
something smashes into him from behind, knocking him down to his hands and knees. 

“Fuck!” _\-- oh man, I hit someone again. Deaton’s gonna kill me if he has a concussion like the last guy. --_

“Hey, dude. You alright?”

Scott rolls into a sitting position panting, the wind still knocked out of him and smiles crookedly at the boy crouching above him. The boy runs his hands over his buzz cut, eyebrows hitched together in concern before asking again if Scott was alright.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Scott replies slowly, squinting up at him before grabbing at the hand the boy stretches out. The boy’s thoughts are jumbled and racing, a non-stop stream of words and images as he steadies himself and Scott can barely understand what he’s thinking.  
“Sorry about that dude. I’m still working on my stops. Derek says I’m getting better, though! Well… he didn’t say it so much as I saw a slight twitch on the corner of his lips when I didn’t run and smash my face into a wall last week.”

Scott’s head was starting to ache, between the stream of words in the boy’s head and the steady flow bursting out of his mouth, he couldn’t concentrate. Rubbing at his temples, he tried to pay attention to what he was saying but only ended up swaying forward, the sunlight swimming behind his closed eyelids. The boy steadies him with two hands on Scott’s shoulders, his mouth shut into a hard line but his mind racing. 

_Oh shit, he does have a concussion. Fuck. I –_

“I don’t have a concussion. I’m just…trying to concentrate.” Scott mutters, finally able to stand up straight as the boy dropped his hands to his sides. His jaw falls slightly open, eyes confused and worried. 

“Concentrate?”

The boy straightens up, tall and lanky with his hands now stuffed in his pockets. The thoughts in his head never stop and Scott scrunches up his face, breathing in and out, trying to calm his mind. 

“Wait, how’d you know I thought you had a concussion?”

“You thought it.”

“I thought it?”

“Yeah, you thought it.”

“Oh.” The boy nods his head, mouth still hanging open as his eyes went comically wide. “I see.”

Scott scrunched up his face as a spike of pain went through his temple and then as if all at once, his mind cleared and it was as if the world were on mute. The boy didn’t speak, his face going blank as well as his mind and Scott wondered what had just happened. Scott blinked at him, tilting his head but pushing his curiosity on the matter aside.

“Who are you?”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

“Stiles.”

“Hm. Okay. Wanna show me around then, Stiles?”

Scott picked up his rucksack, hitching it over his shoulder and nods toward the door. Stiles goes to take a step forward but before he could, Scott slaps a hand on his chest to yank him back. 

At his questioning look, Scott answers, “At a slower speed this time.”

\--

Scott’s first week at the Institute was interesting, to say the least. After meeting Stiles, he was given a quick tour – and by quick, he really means quick since Stiles still can’t really control his abilities yet – of the school and his dormitories. There were less than a hundred students at the Institute, according to Stiles, and because of a lack of space, each had to share a room with at least one other person. Lucky for Scott, Stiles was in need of a roommate since his last one requested a change after Stiles kept throwing things at him to ‘test his abilities’. 

“Dude, he said he had superhuman reflexes. I was just trying to prove it.” He said around a serving of curly fries he ran down to get just a second before, the tips poking out of the sides of his mouth. Scott shook his head, knocking his shoulder against Stiles’ before asking more questions. 

He learned that while it looked like a school, the Institute was really just a safe haven for people like Scott, who were confused and lonely and in need of help. Stiles explained how they did have to go to classes, but it was nothing like what was taught at Scott’s old high school. There were biology classes on how their genetic make-up was completely different to that of a regular human and physical education classes for those like Stiles, who had physical abilities that needed fine-tuning. 

Needless to say, those first few days were overwhelming. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before and Scott didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. 

Thursday was by far the best day of his first week at Beacon Hills because on Thursday, he met Allison Argent. He was lost trying to get to his next class (something about genomes and the history of the mutations), when he passed by the indoor pool. She was floating in the shallow end, her eyes closed as her arms sliced through the water slowly, and no thoughts in her head except for one: breathe.  
Her long, dark hair was spilling around her as she bobbed in and out of the water gently, her thin form slipping above the water every so often. He didn’t know how long he stood there watching her until he took a step forward, shoe echoing on the empty room and making the girl open her eyes and turn toward Scott. 

Her thoughts hit him like a speeding truck and he almost staggers backward but manages to control it before he can. By the time he got that under control, it was too late to notice the small tidal wave coming towards him from the pool. The wave completely envelopes him, soaking him from head to toe and leaving him coughing up chlorine.

“What was that for?” He yelled, voice echoing in the deep room. He waves his arms around, water dripping from the short sleeves of his t-shirt. He had no idea what power this girl had but he knew it was directed at him at the moment, and it wasn’t good. From her position in the pool, her soft features going hard as she glares at him. 

The water lifted below her, pushing her up slowly inch by inch until she could just step onto the pool’s edge. She picks up her towel and wraps it around herself, padding over to Scott who was still very confused. It was only when she stood in front of him, almost at his height, did she speak for the first time.

“Do you usually creep in and watch women in pools? Or am I just special?” Her eyebrow arches, a smirk on her lips, as droplets of water slide down the bridge of her nose and the curves of her collarbones. 

“I wasn’t watching you. I’m Scott, I’m new to the Institute and I just happened to see you as I was lost looking for my class and – ”

“And you decided to creep in and watch a woman in the pool?”

“No!” 

“No?” Her eyebrow arches again, the smirk never faltering. 

“No.” Scott replies, crossing his arms over his torso and frowning at her. “It was just…peaceful in here. Quiet. I didn’t think anyone was in here. What with the lack of…” He gestures to his head, waving his fingers around, hoping she’d understand like Stiles did.

“Lack of what?”

She didn’t.

“I’m telepathic. And you have an interesting way of keeping your mind calm. Just like Stiles. Which is why I thought this place was empty and I really didn’t mean to be creepy.” 

“You know Stiles?” A bright smile spreads on her face and nearly blinds Scott but instead causes a dopey grin to hit his lips. He rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks pink as he asks for her name.

“Allison.”

It was on Thursday, soaked to the bone and smiling wide, that Scott falls in love.

\--

Scott spent most of his time at the Institute with Stiles and Allison, Allison’s friend Lydia – a shape-shifting strawberry blonde bundle of sarcasm, and Danny – the smartest guy at the Institute who always has his face pressed into a book and someone that Stiles stares at whenever he can.

He met a lot of other people as well, people with interesting abilities and even more interesting stories. Like Isaac Lahey, an older boy gifted with intangibility, making cement thick walls look like holograms as he glides through without a scratch. Stiles told him that Isaac found out his power one night when, much to Scott’s astonishment, his father locked him in a freezer in the basement for a bad grade and he managed to climb through, padlock be damned. 

He met Erica Reyes on a rainy afternoon. She was sitting on a ledge by the window and overheard Scott complaining about the weather, so with a flick of her wrist and a smirk on her face, she managed to bring the sun out for the rest of the day. Her boyfriend, Boyd, was a giant wall of muscle and passive-aggressiveness with the gift of energy blasts, which didn’t bode well for anyone within a fifty mile radius when he lost control. There were others, in and out of his classes whom he met and liked and learned from. Scott hasn’t felt this comfortable in his entire life, surrounded by people who understood.

Stiles and Allison were some of the first to come to the Institute, when they were only children. Since they used to live in the town that the Institute borders, Dr. Deaton was able to find them quicker. With the help of the orphaned Derek Hale, a young boy with the ability of heightened sense and tracking skills, he was able to reach out to their families and convince them that it was better for everyone if their children studied at the Institute. Others, like Scott, were harder to find. Physical abilities were traceable, easier to spot in a crowd, whereas the abilities like Scott’s were a tad trickier. Dr. Deaton wouldn’t tell Scott how they managed to find him but he was really glad they did.

“Alright guys, sit down and shut up. Today we’re going to do a repeat of last week’s lesson on ‘Marks’, so break into your pairs.”

Professor Hale was terrifying, to say the least. The light brown trousers, button-up and blazer combo were doing nothing to eliminate the fear factor that his dark eyes and large frame sent out. He stood at the front of the class, eyes scanning the small group of students in the room to make sure they were doing as told. Scott sat in the back corner, surveying the room and wondering, once again, why he couldn’t hear the steady buzz of thoughts at the back of his mind. 

The class continued on and Professor Hale – or Derek as he insisted on being called – never said a word to Scott, staying at his desk at the front of the room with the blank look on his face. The students continued to practise whatever it was they were doing, and Scott searched and searched for even one straggling thought and coming up empty-handed. 

A bell rings about fifteen minutes later, breaking everyone out of their groups and spilling out into the halls as yet another sharp pain shoots through Scott’s head. He lets out a gasp and grips his skull, a throbbing pain continuing until he hears the classroom door shut and then it all goes silent. 

Blinking hard, Scott raises his head to see Derek standing in front of him, eyebrows hitched together. His sharp features almost looked concerned as he watched Scott lean back in his chair and slowly relax.

“Scott, right?” Derek asks sliding into a chair across him and leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. “Do you know what just happened, Scott?”

He shook his head, leaning back fully in his chair as he waited for Derek to explain why he just spent the last hour sitting quietly in the back of the class. None of the other students had even looked at him and it had a chill crawl up Scott’s spine.

“I had all the students focus on a Mark to calm their minds, something we’ve been practising for months. It was a test. For them and for you.”

“A test?”

“Yes. I had to know how strong the Marks could be – it was only a theory I developed last summer, really – and since we’ve never had a telepath at the Institute before, it seemed like a good start.”

Scott stared at him in disbelief. With the throbbing in his skull and Derek’s pleased look, he couldn’t stay seated. So without a word, he pushed out of his chair and walked to the door. He stops and spins back around in anger, arm outstretched and a finger pointed at Derek, before shaking his head and leaving the classroom, unable to vocalize his anger with Derek’s nonchalance over using Scott as a lab rat, and leaving a confused Derek behind.

\--

The sun was blaring down on the quad, the students sprawled out under the shade of trees or sunbathing under the rays. Stiles sits on one of the tables near the corner, staring at the scattered groups of people in front of him. Scott and Allison are talking quietly on the bench beside him with small smiles and frequent touches exchanged, making Stiles roll his eyes and nudge Lydia, who scoffed at them before returning to her textbook. The courtship of Allison Argent started less than a week after Stiles smashed into Scott on the front steps of the Institute. Something about Scott being a stalker and Allison unleashing the fury of the waves on him. Stiles was only half listening since Danny Mahealani had walked by, smiling at Lydia and by proxy Stiles which caused him to fall out of his chair. 

“What’re you reading about anyway, Lydia?” Scott asks, returning his attention to the rest of his friends instead of the way Allison’s brown eyes look in the sun. Lydia raises her head from the rather large book on the table, with a suspicious look in her eye. He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile.

She sits up, brushing her bright hair over her shoulder and fixing him with a slightly annoyed look, and folds her hands over the open pages of her book. 

“It’s a book about transfiguration and shapeshifting.” She eyed him warily as she spoke, as if he would get spooked at any second. Over his tentative friendship with Lydia, Scott has seen into her mind only twice; mostly because he doesn’t like poking into his friends’ minds and also because the first few times were just painful.

Her thoughts were mostly images and feelings rather than actual words and they all centered on her ability. This pain and humiliation about her shapeshifting was so deeply rooted into her psyche that Scott couldn’t see anything but how her bones ache after every shift, how she can’t control when or where it happens, and a hopelessness that echoes in her mind from when Deaton told her they had no cure.

“Cool. Are you trying to – ” He was cut off by a tall, thin figure coming up to the table and calling Lydia’s name. 

Scott’s seen this woman around the Institute, mostly talking to Deaton and random students, but he never knew her name. She had light brown skin and a soft smile that encouraged confessions and feelings, Lydia smiled at her like she was an old friend and as far as Scott knew that could be the case.

Without a word, Lydia packed her book and swung her rather large purse over her shoulder before following the woman out of the sunny quad and into the school. 

“That’s just Ms. Morrell.” Allison says as Stiles plops down into the seat Lydia just vacated, squinting out at the quad. “Lydia has appointments with her every other day or something. She teaches classes here too, mostly for like those with physical abilities and stuff.”

Scott nods and tries to push away his concern for Lydia to listen to the soft lilt of Allison’s voice as she tells him about Derek and Ms. Morrell used to fight over who got to teach which classes. He smiled as she spoke and grinned when she placed her hand over his arm, his thoughts on Lydia falling away with each word that tumbled out of Allison’s pink lips. 

Stiles rolls his eyes again at the two of them, now with no one to share in his disgust, and wishing someone would show up to entertain him.  
He looks back out at the grassy field and as if he conjured him up, spots Danny sitting under a tree by the south entrance, a book in hand and a small pout on his lips as he looks over the papers in his other hand. 

Sparing a glance at his two friends canoodling, Stiles picks up his books and speeds over to where a certain brainiac was sitting. 

“Stiles, seriously?” Danny yelps, papers flying around him as Stiles trips and collapses next to him, limbs sprawled and eyes glazed. “Can’t you just walk over like a normal person?”

Shaking his head at his less-than-graceful arrival, Stiles props himself up on his elbows and tips his head back. His eyes slide up Danny’s form to his eyes with a grin on his face. 

“Dannyboy, no one is normal here, you should know that by now. You know everything, after all.”

Danny glares at him and starts to get up, his papers now scattered across the grass and in need of rearranging. But by the time Danny got to his feet, Stiles was standing in front of him, arms outstretched with the papers stacked in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face. Stiles sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth gnawing at it as Danny realized what he’d done.

Another glare was sent his way before Danny snatched up the papers, snapped his book shut, and turned on his heel to head inside the school, muttering a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder before entering the school. Stiles stares after him and barely a second passes before the bell rings, signalling the end of break, causing Stiles to grin widely.

\--

Erica was having a bad day so it was raining heavily outside, causing the students to eat lunch in the indoor cafeteria instead of the quad.  
Allison, Stiles, and Danny were already at a table when Scott came into the cafeteria, heading for the line with his hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face. Her thoughts were muffled, but he could see one strong image in her mind: him. He grinned even wider and turned his head so no one could see. 

Over the past few months in Derek’s class (after Scott had to explain how what he’d done was offensive and received a very gruff apology), Scott had managed to hone his ability. Now when he was met with an onslaught of more than one mind, he could easily tune them out whereas before it took a skull-splitting headache and all his energy to do so. He was also to hone in to a specific person if he focused hard enough, though he is definitely going to stay away from his friends’ since that time he saw Stiles’ very vivid thoughts concerning a certain omnilingual with brown eyes. 

He gets his lunch and heads to the table, sliding in next to Allison – who blushes a pretty pink and looks down at her lunch – and across from Stiles and Danny, who were arguing about something. Well, not so much arguing as Stiles was trying to read Danny’s notes and Danny was elbowing him away with a frown in his face. Stiles was pouting, his body angled towards Danny in hopes of convincing him. 

“Do your own homework Stilinski! I know you’re not stup – ”

He stops himself, mouth hanging open as he stares at something over Scott’s head. Scott spins around and sees Isaac, drenched and shaking standing behind the closed doors of the cafeteria, with the limp form of Lydia Martin in his arms. His eyes are wide in fear as he calls out for Deaton, his legs buckling – almost dropping her if Stiles hadn’t sped forward and caught her. Multiple people start talking at once, their voices and thoughts mingling together and forming a loud buzz in the room. Scott squeezes his eyes shut, managing to quiet down the inside voices but unable to squelch the rise of panic amongst the students. The three of them get out of their seats and rush towards the front where Stiles and Isaac are hovering over her. 

Her clothes were ripped all over and Stiles slid off his hoodie and wrapped it around her, covering her partially naked form to the curious onlookers. Her usually bright hair was hanging in dark, wet strands along her very pale skin and Scott grew nauseous as he saw the blood.  
He tried to slip into her mind, to figure out what happened to her, wondering if she was attacked or if she hurt herself. Before he could, Derek pushed through everyone and gathered the almost lifeless body into his arms and lifted her up. Deaton appeared by his side and they rushed out of the cafeteria and down the darkened hall, the thunder still crackling behind the windows as the rain pours down even harder.

It wasn’t until the next day that they found out that it was Lydia’s shapeshifting that overtook her, breaking bones in her small body as she struggled against the change. She told Deaton that she didn’t want to hurt anyone so she had gone out into the woods, passing out from the pain before the change had even completed.

\--

It was a little passed midnight and Scott was wide awake, lying in his bed as Stiles snores loudly next to him. He and Allison spent most of the afternoon in the pool, talking and showing off. Allison showed him how she could manipulate the water, her thin fingers gliding through the air as the water followed her will. It was beautiful. 

He couldn’t hear her thoughts at all when they were together. Or if he did, they were just muffled noises in the background like a television set on low during a family get-together. He asked her how she could do that.

“Derek, mostly. When we got here, there were only a handful of students and the professors: Dr. Deaton, Ms. Morrell, and Derek Hale. Derek’s senses are all heightened, yes, but he also has a way of shutting down his senses. Sort of, compartmentalizing, you know?”  
Scott nods, his mouth tilted downward and his eyes fixed on hers. Allison smiled at him, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear before continuing. 

“He started to teach us about ‘Marks’, something he learned from his father before the house –.” She bit her lip, wondering if she should continue. Scott shuffled closer and placed his hand on hers, squeezing gently. Scott already knew from Dr. Deaton about the Hales. It was a weird phenomenon to have an entire family with abilities, and the Hales knew that – they tried not to bring attention to themselves from the humans and the people like them, thinking it best to stay humble. Derek’s Uncle Peter had other plans. 

Peter Hale was a boy born with the ability to manipulate fire. From a small age, he would harness his power, setting small fires in the woods that surrounded the Hale house. He always seemed to question why the rest of the family was so content in living in the shadows of humans when they could do such extraordinary things. He fought with them, over and over, trying to get them to see that his way was the right way. That they shouldn’t have to listen to Deaton’s crazy plan of opening the Institute, instead that they should be proud and open about their abilities and show the humans what they could do. When the rest of his family refused, insistent on their ways of peaceful co-existence, Peter lost all control. People even say that he had lost his mind. 

The next day, the Hale house was sent up in flames with three generations locked inside, screaming and scrabbling at locked doors that would never open, as a young Derek Hale ran for his life through the woods of Beacon Hills. 

“The Marks are the essence of our abilities; they’re what we focus on when things get to be too much, when we get overwhelmed. They’re what keep us in control, keep us calm.” 

Before Scott could mention that focusing on his ability only made the thoughts even stronger, he notices how close their bodies are. Allison smiles sweetly at him, her eyes bright and wide. Scott leaned in further, eyes never leaving hers until her eyelids fell shut and his mouth pressed against hers. She tasted of chlorine and cherry chapstick, her lips soft and pliant under his as he moved even closer and wrapped his arms around her. He barely registered the fact that the water had stopped floating around them and was now lying flat and calm inside the pool.

\--

Danny was good at reading people. As yet another benefit of his omnilingualism body language was just another language that Danny could decipher and he was usually right about ninety-nine percent of the time. He thought he was imagining it at first, the looks and the constant touching but as he said, Danny knows everything and he’s pretty sure he knows this.

Danny crosses his arms and narrows his eyes as he watches Stiles talking with the new kid, Scott. He has a smile on his face as he tells whatever story he’s telling to a half-listening Scott who is too busy trying not to smile over at Allison as they leave Derek’s last class of the day. Stiles finally noticed his new friend wasn’t paying him any mind and nudged his shoulder.

“Dude!” He exclaims, mouth falling into a pretty pout before he scowls at Scott. “Forget it, man. I’ll see you later.”

This was it. Danny pushes off the wall he was leaning on and makes his way over to Stiles, ignoring the way his hands were slightly shaking.  
“Hey Stiles, can we talk for a second?” Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin when he calls out to him, eyes going wide as he turns to face Danny. He nods frantically, looking nervous as a soft blush rises to his sharp cheekbones. 

Danny yanked the smaller boy over by an alcove around the corner of Derek’s classroom and pressed him into the pale coloured wall, an amused smile skirting over Danny’s lips as he watched Stiles get more and more confused. Without hesitation, Danny moves forward and crushes his lips to Stiles’ before he can change his mind about the whole thing. Stiles starts again, his body trembling a little between the wall and Danny’s chest before going slack and digging his long fingers into the fabric of Danny’s henley and meeting Danny’s tongue with his. 

He wanted to press against Stiles and feel the heat of his body against him as he tries to coax moan after moan out of the uncharacteristically quiet boy in his arms. He went to do just that when the sound of someone clearing their throat entered his clouded brain. Before he knew it, Danny was pushed backward by the same hands that were holding him close just a second before. Too confused to say anything, Danny turned to see who interrupted them. 

Derek stood at the corner of the hallway, arms folded in front of his chest and his usual frown on his face. He fought the urge to laugh as he caught a hint of pink on Derek’s cheeks as he said, “Super senses, guys.”

And then he walked away, combat boots clomping against the tiled floor, leaving a stupefied Stiles slumped against the wall. Danny laughed and when to turn back to Stiles but before he could even open his mouth, the other boy was speeding down the hallway without a word.  
Danny was good at reading people but he never would’ve guessed that Stiles was a coward.

\--

“So, Derek called you too, huh?” Erica says with her legs propped up on Derek’s desk and half a smile on her lips. Scott nods slowly before looking around the room for Derek and seeing Allison, Stiles, Danny, Isaac, and Boyd all slouched in chairs around the room. Allison beamed at him, patting the seat beside her that wasn’t taken up by a very tired looking Stiles – who he hasn’t seen since yesterday morning, weirdly enough. 

Boyd and Isaac were scattered in seats around the classroom, looking bored and ready to leave. He noticed how Danny wasn’t sitting with them today, opting for a spot by the front of the class instead with a steady stream of ‘don’t look at him’ fluttering inside the crevices of his mind. Scott made a mental note to ask Allison about that later.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“The same thing you are.”

Scott spun around at the voice to face Derek, who was leaning against the doorjamb with the same stony look on his face. 

“Which is?” Stiles asks, rolling his eyes when Derek doesn’t respond. 

He slowly makes his way across the room to his desk, giving Erica a look before she slips her feet off his desk and scurries to a seat beside Boyd. He glances over his shoulder at Scott and asks him if he’s going to join them and sit down. Swallowing the multitude of questions on his tongue, Scott nodded once and went to sit next to Allison. 

“Right then.” Derek starts, clasping his hands in front of him before leaning against the front of his desk to face them. “Deaton and Ms. Morrell were supposed to join us, as was Miss Martin, but they’re still monitoring her in case she makes a change like the one before.”

“So what’re we doing here then?” Isaac pipes up, his sarcasm just barely concealed since it was caught by Derek, who sends a hard look his way before speaking again.

“We’re here because you’re the best and brightest that the Institute has to offer.” Scott watches as Derek looks down at his hands, a pained expression flickering over his face that goes away when he raises his head up once more. “And we need your help.”

“Help with what?” Scott asks. He didn’t bother trying to dip into Derek’s mind, already knowing that it’d be blocked to his prying. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about my uncle, Peter Hale.” 

A silence washed over the room, everyone well aware of the calamity behind that name and its effect on Derek. It takes him a second to get his thoughts in order and to continue.

“It seems my uncle has brought it upon himself to come back to Beacon Hills, the trail we found suggests he’s heading for the Institute. And he’s not alone, either. Deaton went to visit some friends who live along the town’s border who said they saw him set up camp in the woods, him and three others.”

“And you want us to do what? Go after him?” Stiles says with a laugh. His smile falls instantly when he takes in the look on Derek’s face. “You’re not serious, Derek! We’ll get killed!”

The group started to all talk at once, Stiles and Isaac yelling things at Derek that in any other condition would land them in serious trouble but now just drowned in the panicked voices of their peers. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a groan before speaking up.

“No, Stiles.” The idiot goes unsaid but his tone says it anyways as he glares at the lot of them, standing straight and tall, arms crossing over his chest. “The reason we’ve gathered you seven here is because we believe that you’re the biggest targets and we want you to be prepared so that doesn’t happen. Deaton’s friends discovered that Peter’s recruited a telekinetic, a wallcrawler, and a flyer. And he’s making his way here for more.”

“He’s building an army.” Allison breathed out, her face paler than usual and her usually bright eyes were dark with fear. 

“No, Allison.” Danny speaks for the first time, a grave look on his face. “He’s re-building his family.” 

Slowly, the realization dawns on everyone in the classroom and they stare at Derek with a look of pity and fear in their eyes. Derek nods. They all know the intricacies of the Hale family by now and they all know that Derek’s mother was telekinetic, his sister Laura was a wallcrawler, and his maternal uncle had the ability to fly. 

“Yes. But my family is gone.” His expression doesn’t falter, anger reigning in his veins as his gaze flickers from Scott to the rest of the group. 

“And we’re going to stop him.”

“So basically, what you’re saying is…we’re the X-Men?” Stiles says grinning widely, earning a glare from Derek and groan from the rest of the group before they began to set up training and patrol times around the school schedules. 

\--

The next few days went by in a blur as each member of the group processed what Derek had told them. Allison was shaken at first but once she knew the severity of the situation, she volunteered for the first watch along with Boyd. Stiles and Isaac didn’t seem all too bothered by the danger, instead focusing on the fact that they could be superheroes while Erica, in her trepidation over what could happen to them, dropped the temperature below zero in the middle of April. Then there was Scott, who was the only one not to immediately fall to Derek’s command.

“This is insane! We’re only seventeen and they’re ready to send into battle against his psychotic uncle!” Scott yelled with his arms in the air and his brow furrowed. Stiles spread his legs over the edge of his bed, dragging his attention from the TV to his pacing roommate. He pressed pause on the game – eliciting a shout of protest from Isaac – and looked up at Scott.

“I think it’ll be cool.” He shrugs, looking over at Isaac who nods his head and shrugs in the same off-handed manner that Stiles did.

“Are you not at all concerned as to the life-threatening aspect of all of this?”

“Sure but this is the first time we get to use our powers to actually do something instead of just learning how to hide them from normies.”  
Isaac laughs and quirks an eyebrow. “Normies, Stilinski?” 

“Shut up.” He unfolds his long limbs and stands up, stopping Scott from pacing and grabbing his shoulders. “We’re going to be fine. Derek said so.”

“Yeah, somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.” Scott replies before shaking off Stiles’ hands and grabbing his coat. He hears Isaac says something to Stiles about pressing play on the game and Stiles asking Scott where he’s going. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

How could they be so relaxed about all of this? Derek explained that Peter was coming for them specifically because of their abilities and lately, it seemed like Scott was the only one concerned about the whole thing. Scott didn’t care what Derek thought, there was no way they were getting through this unscathed. He took a deep breath and finally came to a stop in front of a familiar dormitory door, before rubbing the back of his neck and knocking twice. 

\--

Scott couldn’t breathe. His lungs were burning slightly from the lack of oxygen as he gasped into the warm air of the bedroom. His hands slid across soft skin, gripping when Allison’s mouth slid over his jaw bone and down his neck. Her legs fell outside his hips, straddling him. The light blue bed sheets wrinkled beneath them as his hips canted upwards, sliding along hers dangerously slow, and causing them both to let out soft noises into the quiet room.

He pulls back, worried. “Is this – is this okay?”

They hadn’t really gone this far before, not really having the time or the privacy to, and Scott did just show up at her dorm freaking out. Allison slowly sat upright, causing some friction that made Scott groan into her clavicles, and smiles down at him. A cat-like grin spreads over her face, long hair falling over her shoulders and tickling his skin. She doesn’t say anything, only slips her thin fingers through his hair and pulls his mouth against hers.

She rocks down against him, her hips creating a tortuously slow rhythm that Scott can only moan in response to. They were still half-clothed – Allison’s panties still gripping her hips while Scott still wore his boxers and white t-shirt strung around his neck when Allison got frustrated and didn’t bother with taking it completely off before attaching her mouth to his skin. 

He was so hard that he couldn’t even see straight, hands blindly stroking her heated skin and mouthing at her neck as she pulled on his hair and grinds down once again, a whimper falling out of her bruised lips. 

She’s moving faster, her grip tightening and her breath becoming more and more erratic as she moves and Scott can’t do much more than hold on and try and match each thrust for thrust. She arches her back, her thin body tight as a bow, panting into the heated air and coming above him with a single aborted sigh. Scott slides his arms around her, holding her body against him as she comes down from her orgasm. A wide, lazy grin takes over her face as she looks down at him, arms looped around his neck and playing the hairs on the nape of his neck.  
Allison presses her mouth against his again, the kiss slow and hot, her tongue sliding along his almost mimicking the slow rhythm of her hips only moments ago. Her mouth happily distracted him and he didn’t even realize her hands snaking downwards until it was wrapped around him. A stuttered moan escaped him and he hunched over, mouth slipping from hers and his hips jerking upward into the rough heat of her hand. It didn’t take long for Scott to come, with the recent memory of Allison arching above him and her hand around him stroking slowly. 

It wasn’t until they were both lying back on the crumpled sheets, their breathing back to normal and eyes slightly drooping, that Scott realized that he couldn’t hear a thing. No outside thoughts filtered into his mind as they usually do, and as he looks down at Allison – her head laying on his stomach as her breath evens out and her hands lazily caresses his hand draped across his stomach – he thinks that maybe he’s found his mark. 

\--

The hallways were empty and very quiet – something normal for eleven p.m. at the Institute – when Stiles made his way down them, heading to the cafeteria to steal some leftover meatloaf from dinner for him and Isaac. Scott hadn’t returned to the dorm and he’d be worried if he hadn’t already texted Allison and found out where he was – with a cheeky ‘have fun’ send-off and a grumble about Scott being the only one getting laid these days.

Stiles is an idiot. People have always told him that, in jest or in spite, but he never truly believed it until he found himself running away from Danny Mahealani after having the life kissed out of him by Danny Mahealani. He’s been waiting for that moment since the day Danny arrived at the Institute, all broad shoulders and wide eyes with a duffel bag in hand and a nervous smile on his lips. It didn’t take long for Danny to make friends with Allison and constantly be in Stiles’ circle, slowly but surely providing him with little tidbits about himself that would make Stiles fall more and more in love with him. 

As luck would have it, just as Stiles was remembering that fateful day where he was trapped between a hard place and Danny’s impressive torso, Stiles forgot to be on the look-out and smashed right into something. Or, rather someone, Stiles concluded as he looked down at the shadowed form in front of him. 

“Idiot.” Stiles mutters to himself when he sees who he’s run into. 

“I agree.” Danny replies, hands clenching around the book in his hands before he looks over his shoulder. “And I’d hurry to wherever you’re going, Stilinski, because Derek is on patrol in ten minutes and if he catches you roaming…”

He trails off, shaking his head with a smile. 

“Why do I even bother? You’re gonna do what you want, anyway. Carry on.” He looks over his shoulder again and pushes past Stiles. He doesn’t make it two strides before a hand lands on his shoulder to stop him. 

“W – wait. That’s it?” Stiles moves in front of him, leaning down to catch his eye as Danny keeps his head lowered. It takes a moment but Danny finally lifts his head, his expression blank. 

“Yeah, Stilinski. That’s it. What else do you want?”

“What’re you doing out at this hour?” He asks instead of answering, his hand clenching in the fabric of Danny’s shirt and stepping a tiny bit closer.

“Not that I have to explain myself to you but I had research to do for Derek and Deaton in the library.” He looks down at the hand on his shoulder and pointedly up at Stiles. “What do you want, Stilinski?”

Stiles slides his hand over Danny’s shoulder, along the beating pulse of his neck until his fingers graze over his tense jawline, the pads of his fingertips catching on the hints of stubble beginning to form. He wants a lot of things. He wants to tell Danny that he’s sorry he was a coward and ran away. He wants to continue tracing every inch of Danny just like he was now. He wants to feel the press of Danny against him, the smell and weight of him enveloping him until all his senses could focus on were Danny. But most of all, he wants Danny to kiss him again, like last time, only this time Stiles won’t run away but pull him close. This time, he’ll do it right. 

But he doesn’t answer Danny’s question and Danny doesn’t kiss him again. Instead, he grabs Stiles’ hand and removes it from his face before releasing it immediately. He shakes his head again at Stiles and begins to walk away again, only this time he makes it down the hallway and around the corner leaving Stiles wondering how to fix what he broke. 

Hearing footstep rounding the corner behind him, Stiles was shaken out of his self-pity and sped up his trek to the cafeteria, managing to return to his dorm room with a midnight snack for him and Isaac and a heavier heart than when he left. 

\--

“Dude, I’m sure it will totally work out with Danny.” 

Stiles gives Scott a look that says he really doesn’t agree with him, and links his hands behind his neck before hanging his head as they patrolled the west end of the school. It’s been almost two weeks since Stiles and Danny’s meeting in the empty halls of the Institute, the latter shuffling away whenever Stiles joined the group at lunch or if he spotted him in the halls. It was unbearable, to say the least, and Stiles didn’t know how to fix it.

“I think I’ve lost him, man.” 

Scott looks over at Stiles pityingly, never having seen the cheerful boy so miserable – even when they were told about their impending doom at the hands of Peter Hale he was all smiles and jokes. He places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, about to pull him in for a much needed hug when a spike of pain echoes through Scott’s skull.

_SCOTT – FRONT ENTRANCE – GET DEREK! HE’S HERE!_

Scott’s eyes went wide, his grip now tightening on Stiles’ shoulder, nails digging in painfully. Stiles was staring at him, his mouth moving but Scott couldn’t hear anything as his head throbbed. Stiles looks at him with a panic in his eyes and Scott manages to gasp out, “Get. Derek. Peter. Here.”

Stiles was gone before Scott even finished speaking, leaving the telepath hunched over in a corner, on the verge of vomiting as the pain in his head didn’t subside. 

There was barely a sound made as Stiles raced down the halls, curving around corners without paying attention to anything but getting to Derek. His hoodie whipped around his torso as he made his way across the school to the faculty dormitories. Stiles makes another turn around the training room hallway. And another. He can almost see Derek’s room and means to call out to him, sure that he could hear him from here, until, all at once, he found himself sprawled on his back with a pain in the back of his skull and stars behind his eyes.  
Blinking quickly, Stiles looks up to see three people towering above him with their faces half-hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway and his blood runs cold. 

“Well, well. What do we have here?” The man on the far right spoke up, stepping forward

“You’re Peter Hale.” Stiles says, happy that his voice isn’t shaking as much as his insides were. 

Peter Hale looked just as he did in the old photos Derek had shown the group, only with a bit more muscle and more wrinkles around his eyes. Oh, and the slightly psychotic grin that stretched across his face as he stares at Stiles, who was trying to itch his way towards the corner where Derek lay sleeping. 

“Ah – ah.” Peter says, shaking his index finger at Stiles before twisting his hand into a cupped shape as a small fire ignited above his palm.  
“Right. Fire. Forgot about that.” Stiles licks his lips and backs away from Peter, his eyes never leaving the growing flame in Peter’s hand as he scrambled for a plan. He was boxed in between a fire-wielding maniac and his two minions, so his chances of running for it are pretty slim and doesn’t that just fucking suck. Peter moves closer and raises his boot-clad foot to lay on Stiles’ chest, applying a slight pressure when Stiles tried to move. Stiles struggles against him and Peter pushes harder causing Stiles to let out a cry of pain and then still against the cold linoleum. Peter keeps his eyes on Stiles as he orders his two followers to wait outside the school to make sure no one leaves.

“I’ve heard from my…sources,” Peter starts, his dark eyes never leaving Stiles’ cowering form, almost feeding off his fear as his grin widens. His fingers twist as he plays with the flame in his grasp, never letting Stiles forget what he can do. “That the Institute has managed to get a hold of a very strong telepath. I wonder how my nephew feels about that. A boy with the same powers as his dear old father.”

“I’m sure – ” Stiles lets out a gasp under Peter’s hold. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. Why don’t you call out for him? Better yet, why don’t you let go and let me go get him for you?”

“You’re a mouthy one.” Peter grins, leaning his weight onto the foot that was currently pushing against Stiles’ ribcage and stilting his breathing. “I’m gonna like breaking you in.”

“For what? What do you want from us?”

“Now, now. Why would I let you know all my plans, Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes widen when Peter uses his name and struggles against Peter’s hold once more, the fear slithering under his skin and causing his heart to race. He could feel his ability buzzing in his veins, itching to be released but Peter’s hold was too strong and all he did was flop back against the floor in defeat. His vision was swimming under his fluttering eyelids, speech starting to slur.

“What do you want from me, then?” Stiles mumbles, eyes starting to water as he takes in the fact that he might die tonight, cowering on the floor with blood trickling over his eye and a throbbing at the back of his skull. Stiles blinks up at the shadowed figure of Peter Hale, blacking out before hearing his response, his body falling limp underneath his hold. The last thing he remembers is someone yelling his name before slipping completely under. 

\--

“I’ll keep watch over him. Make sure he doesn’t have a concussion or anything.” Danny pipes up, one side of his lip quirking up in reassurance as Ms. Morrell raises an eyebrow at him, and looks down at Stiles again. His eyes were closed and there was still some dry blood crusting around his eyebrow, mouth slightly open as his shallow breath fluttered in and out. Lying in the nurse’s station – which was really just a spare room by the teacher’s hall – with a bucket by his head, Stiles looks almost peaceful. Ms. Morrell frowns before looking back up at Danny. 

“Fine.” She relents, shrugging when Derek raises his eyebrows in question. “He’s read every damn book in this place, Derek, it’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

With that she spins on her heels and leaves the small room, Derek following suit once he’s positive Stiles won’t bleed internally. He stops by the open door, hand wrapped around the jamb and his mouth in a straight line.

“Just…call me if there’re any problems, okay?”

Danny nods once and closes the door after Derek turns the corner, leaning his head against the wood. 

“Am I still unconscious or was Derek Hale worried about my well-being?”

Stiles was propped up on his elbows and smiling when Danny spins around. Danny strides over to the bed and sinks into the space next to Stiles’ torso, eyes scanning over his body to make sure he was all right. Stiles’ grin falters when one of Danny’s hand slides along the back of his skull and comes forward to cup his face gently. 

“You’re awake.” Danny breathes.

“And talking.”

“When are you not?”

“Hey!” A smile blooms on his face once more, capturing Danny’s hand as it drops from his face and intertwining their fingers. His mouth settles into a pout. “I’m injured, you can’t make fun of me.”

Danny doesn’t respond, his attention solely on the way their fingers look locked together. They were similar in size, his slightly larger while Stiles’ fingers were long and thin but they slotted in between his like they were meant to be there and it started a stutter in Danny’s heart. He slowly peels his hand away from Stiles’ and gets up from the bed.

“Danny?” His voice was soft and timid in a way that Danny’s never heard it sound before and his chest aches. He rubs at it absently, as if that would clear away the pain. “Is everything okay?”

He nods. The ache continues and his throat burns, he’s not sure what’s happening but he continues to rub at his chest – pushing the pain back inside and keeping it hidden. He’s not sure what would happen if he let it out.

“You’re freaking me out, dude. What’s the matter?”

A sob rips through Danny before he’s even aware of what’s happening, sliding against the wall to the floor when his legs give out on him. He stares at Stiles with wide eyes and the boy in the bed could only stare back. Danny sat there with the tears sliding down his face and his chest heaving with sobs as he thought about how perfect their hands fit and how a few hours ago he was wiping Stiles’ blood from his skin and how he felt when being kissed and how he was alive. He didn’t know how much time had passed with him curled up on the floor but the tears were dry on his face and his breathing evened out until it was just him staring at Stiles, hopeless and waiting. 

“Danny.” Stiles whispers. “Danny, come here.”

“No, Stiles.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t.” 

Danny’s head falls onto his folded arms in defeat, unable to look at Stiles. He misses the sound of the sheets rustling and the slap of bare feet along the floor only registering the soft touch of his fingertips against Danny’s cheek. Danny raises his head and wearily looks up to see Stiles sitting cross-legged in front of him. 

“Do you not like me anymore?” 

“No, Stiles. I like you.” Danny whispers, breath skimming over Stiles’ cheek. 

“Then kiss me.”

And, because he couldn’t find a reason not to, Danny did. 

\--

Derek stood by the door in the indoor training facility – which was really just a school gym – and watched as the eight of them ran through the exercises he put forth. He made Stiles go last, for obvious reasons, and Scott was waiting for his turn behind Isaac as Allison made her way through the exercises. Derek wanted to train each of them in hand-to-hand combat in the event that their abilities were rendered useless against Peter and his companions. They got lucky last time. Derek thinks that Peter’s break-in was only a scare tactic or else he wouldn’t have left willingly and before the rest of the group could get to him.

These exercises went on for days after Peter’s first attempt and his promise to return, fueling them all to work harder. They broke off into pairs on some days and on others, Derek wanted to work on their abilities, but mostly Derek wanted to train them to go for the kill. To work around Peter’s strengths and take him out.

A loud crash came from Scott’s right and he glances over to see Danny throwing his arms up in the air and Stiles sprawled in the mess of equipment. Scott shook his head at the sight and thought this might take a lot longer to accomplish. He glances over at Stiles once more where Danny is now hovering over him, his hands ghosting over his sprawled form.

\--

“Fuck, Stiles.” Danny gasps into his mouth, large hands spreading across Stiles’ back, hiking up his cotton t-shirt and rubbing at bare skin. Stiles grins against his mouth before sliding his tongue inside and squeezing the hard muscles underneath his fingertips. 

They were supposed to be studying since they had an exam in the History of Genetics on Monday, but then Danny opened the door wearing that white t-shirt that stretched over his shoulders really well and so here they are. Here being Danny’s bed, with their mouths sliding against each other’s and small, needy noises slipping out of Stiles’ mouth every so often after Stiles had very quickly moved them there. And people thought Stiles’ powers couldn’t be put to good use. Danny pulls back to breathe, letting out a small laugh as he looks at Stiles’ swollen mouth and dazed expression.

“And here I thought you had a crush on Professor Hale.” He whispers, hot breath ghosting over Stiles’ cheek bone before Danny brushes his lips against the smooth skin. 

“Ew. The sexy brooding thing can only work for so long before you kinda realize he’s socially awkward and also like thirty.”

Danny lets out another laugh, his hand sliding down Stiles’ spine to his ass, both hands gripping him close and causing a strangled groan from Stiles. Their hips slide against each other and Stiles hitches a leg over Danny’s for a better angle and pushes his hips forward in earnest. He catches Danny’s eye, a dirty grin spreading over his face. 

“Let’s stop talking about Derek, yeah?” Stiles says, nudging Danny onto his back and straddling his hips. 

Danny leans up and captures his mouth, licking inside to taste every inch of him as he sneaks his hands underneath Stiles’ shirt and rubs at bare skin once again. He smiles up at him and nods slowly.

“Yeah, Yeah. That’s a good idea. No Derek.”

\--

It was a little after one am when they heard the first crash echoing in the empty halls and continuing louder and louder each time. Deaton reacts immediately, knowing Peter had come again and being prepared, and gathered all the students in the safety bunkers in the basement while sending Ms. Morrell down with them and Derek to get the group to defend the school.

Clad in sweatpants and wrinkled shirts, the gang stumbled into the hallways, alert and trying to recall everything Derek taught them in training. Derek, Erica, and Boyd lead the way since their abilities would be most effective against Peter and his companions while Stiles, Allison, and Isaac followed behind. Scott went to go follow but was yanked back by Deaton, who spins him around to face him. 

“Scott, come with me. Downstairs.”

“But – ” Another yank. He’s pulled away from the retreating forms of his friends and girlfriend, protests spilling out of his lips until his voice is hoarse and throat burning. Once downstairs behind the solid frame of bunker’s door, Deaton looks Scott in the eye and explains quickly.

“We were wrong. Peter isn’t coming for the whole group – well he is, but not really.” Deaton pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. “We pieced it together after what happened with Stiles. He’s at the Institute for you, Scott. He needs a telepath, he’s already gathered the rest but it’s you he wants.”

“Just you.”

\--

Upstairs, the doors of the Institute were crashed open and the group was mid-fight, scratches and bruising forming on their skin while they continued to give all they had. A storm starts to build outside as Erica comes up against one of Peter’s companions, the blonde trying to coerce the howling wind to push the wallcrawler back down to their level before he can attack, and succeeding. 

The young man crashes to the floor by her feet with a strangled yell, struggling to stand. He puts up a good fight, blocking most of Erica’s blows and catching a few of his against the bones in her ribs and cheek. Her vision blurs as she sends a harsh kick to the man’s side, sending him sprawling against the linoleum. The minute he gets to his feet, though, Erica remembers what Derek taught them and delivers a high kick to the man’s jaw and sending him to the floor once more. 

She smirks down at him, flinching when the move made her mouth sting and turns to go help Boyd with the telekinetic on the other side of the east wing. She doesn’t hear her name being called but all of a sudden, Isaac is bursting through the wall and tackling the man back to the ground, his fists colliding with the wallcrawler’s face over and over until Erica had to pull him off. Breathing heavily with Erica’s arm stretched over his chest and yanking him back, Isaac stares at the man by his feet, bloody and broken.

“Isaac, he’s dead.”

\--

In the east wing, Derek and Stiles find Boyd standing over the charred body of the telekinetic, eye swollen and a gash in his side from what looks to be a ripped off locker door. Derek holds Boyd’s face in his hands, inspecting his wounds and giving him a small nod to let him know everything’s okay. The teen only stares back at him blankly before his gaze falls to the severed and burned form of Peter’s companion. Letting go of Boyd, Derek scans the area looking for his uncle and coming up empty but managing to run into Isaac and Erica.  
As they make their way down the dark and empty corridors, the storm finally letting up around them as Erica calms down, the smell of burning wood reaches them.

“He’s in the quad.” Stiles yells, starting to build up speed before anyone could stop him, the others following as quickly as possible.

When they reach the open space of picnic tables and grassy hills, there is a small fire near the doors of the Institute and beside it, the petite form of Allison standing off with Peter Hale. They were mid-fight and Allison looked exhausted, her legs shaking underneath the moonlight and her hair stuck along her face. The left side of her long locks seem inches shorter and when the wind blows, the scent of burnt hair fills their noses. 

Peter advances on her, his hands twirling fire into one large sphere aimed at the young girl with the dark eyes and a determined brow. When they switch their gazes to her, they see her arms stretched in front of her and her face creased with concentration. In the blink of an eye, a tidal wave rushes forward and pushes Peter onto his back and extinguishing the flames in his grip.

“Allison, look out!” Stiles yells before racing over and tackling her down right before a ball of flame courses past the spot where she was just standing. From where they lay on the wet grass, Stiles and Allison watch as Peter stands, almost unaffected by Allison’s wave, and grin maniacally. 

“It’s going to take more than a little water to burn out this flame, girl.”

\--

It was the end. Fire lit up the dark sky, illuminating the beaten and bruised faces of the defeated six who were sprawled across the quad in various states of pain and consciousness. Peter Hale slowly made his way over to his nephew, who is still trying to stand despite the bubbled flesh along his flank and the blood dripping over his right eye. Peter kicks him back down and Derek lets out a howl of pain, staring wide eyed as Peter looks out over his success.

“You cannot win.” He starts, hand wiping at his mouth. “My powers and my cause are far too great to be defeated.”

“Your cause is insane!” Derek roars, trying to pick himself up on his hands and knees. 

“You will soon see. Once I have the telepath, my plans will be executed and then the humans will know about us. They will bow down to us. I tried to make your father see it my way but he refused. And now, so do you. And you, my dear nephew, will sadly meet the same fate as he did.”

The fire slowly generates beneath his fingertips, spinning into a small ball and lighting up Peter’s large smile evilly. He pulls his arm back, ready to set it loose.

“Farewell, dear – ”

Derek watches as a large, dark beast jumps onto Peter from the shadows, grabbing hold on him and knocking him to the ground. Peter’s screams echo in empty night, the flames vibrating around him as the wolf-life animal sinks its teeth into the flesh of his neck, snarling on top of him. Peter’s legs thrash and kick until the beast crushes the main artery and his whole body goes limp and the fire in his palm slowly extinguishes into nothing. 

It was then that the beast started to shrink in size. The fur that covered its body disappeared, turning into pale, pink flesh and the dark eyes he watched kill his uncle turned into the bright ones of Lydia Martin. When she realizes what had happened and where she is, she screams in horror and pushes herself away from Peter’s corpse.

Gathering her legs up against her chest in an attempt to cover her nakedness, the redhead stared wide-eyed at Peter. Warm, wet blood still covers her mouth and face as well as most of her body. Getting up carefully, Derek makes his way over to Lydia’s shaking form knowing what to do after a transformation. He didn’t expect for her to pass out the minute he put his arms around her.

\--

“So, Lydia, how have you been feeling lately?”

Ms. Morrell leans back in her office chair, her soft eyes never leaving Lydia’s form as the redhead shifts in her chair and stares back.

“Shouldn’t you already know that?” She glances down at her fingertips with a frown. “What with your power and all.”

Ms. Morrell didn’t smile, instead pursing her lips and folding her small hands over her desk and leaning forward. Lydia raised an eyebrow at her, unwilling to start a conversation. The clock ticks behind her as she flicks her hair over her shoulder and Ms. Morrell starts again. 

“I think we should talk about what happened with Peter Hale.” 

Lydia flinches slightly without meaning to, mentally berating herself for it while Ms. Morrell watches on. Flashes of the night Peter Hale broke into the Institute flicker through her mind and she clenches her manicured fists. Only seeing it in pieces – as custom to memories during a transformation – Lydia was determined to bury the images in the recesses of her mind. Three weeks later, the only time she sees the lifeless and mangled body of Peter Hale is in her dreams. And in her sessions with Ms. Morrell.

“I’m sensing fear, Lydia. What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“You know I know you’re lying.”

“Then why bother asking?”

“Because I want you to tell me.”

“Well I want to get sushi and a manicure but instead, I’m here. Just get McCall in and he can do your job for you.”

Ms. Morrell sighs and falls back into her chair, feeling her frustration and Lydia’s rage cursing through her body. She flexes her long fingers along the dark wood of her desk and takes a deep breath. Lydia waits calmly, daring her to speak. 

“Lydia, you have to – ”

“I have to what?” The redhead snaps back, uncrossing her legs swiftly and sitting up straight. “Talk to you about how it felt to kill someone? Or moan about how agonizing it feels to have your body ripped apart from the inside? Been there. Done that. My life is still a mess, so excuse me if I think your normie therapy sessions aren’t going to cut it these days.”

Ms. Morrell said nothing and Lydia gave her one last look before slipping her bag over her slender shoulder and walking out of the office, her heels clicking against the linoleum. She didn’t think she’d be returning to those four walls for a while. Not unless Ms. Morrell came to her with what she really needed: a cure. 

\--

The news of Lydia’s departure hit the group hard, especially Allison and Danny, and the next few days were spent hoping she’d return. When a week had gone by, they stormed into Deaton’s office and demanded a search party be sent out to find her and bring her home. Stiles suggested that he go alone since he’ll cover the most ground but ever since Peter, Deaton wasn’t too keen on letting students off the grounds alone. It wasn’t until a month had past that it truly sunk in, leaving Allison crying in her now-empty room.

“I should’ve – ” A hiccup rips through her chest and she clutches the sheets of Lydia’s old bed. “I should’ve tried to help her, ya know? She probably felt so alone.”

Scott slipped onto the bed next to her, gathering Allison in his arms and holding her close. He stays silent, mostly because he knows nothing he says will make it better or make Lydia waltz through the door with her bag over her shoulder and her bright hair flying behind her. They stayed lying on her bed for a while, long enough for the sun to dip below the horizon and cause Stiles to poke his head in and call them down for dinner.

Weeks past with no sign from Lydia and there was nothing they could do but go on without her there. They still attended classes and ate together in the cafeteria, laughing at Stiles’ jokes and scrunching their faces up at Allison and Scott when they kissed. But every once in a while, like when they’d pass Ms. Morrell’s office or see a flash of red hair, they would get sad again remembering the girl so lost and desperate and looking for a way out.

\--

Scott laughed from his seat on the bleachers, head falling back as he watched Stiles and Derek practicing in the field area behind the school. Stiles was supposed to come to a full stop whenever Derek would blow the whistle, but it wasn’t going very well. Only a half hour has past and Stiles has fallen over in six out of nine different trials. Right now, Derek was slowly unravelling in his frustration and he made a bet with Allison that he wouldn’t last the next ten minutes without screaming or throwing something at Stiles. 

“I give him less than five minutes.” Danny adds, grimacing as Stiles heads to the starting line once again.

“You’re on!” Scott laughs, high-fiving Danny with a grin before swinging his arm over Allison’s shoulders and looking back out at the field. The words weren’t fully out of his mouth before they heard Derek screaming Stiles’ name. An argument erupts between the two as Derek moans on about Stiles’ incompetence.

“We’ve been doing this for three years, Stilinski. How do you keep screwing it up?” Derek runs a hand through his hair, sprawling it atop his head and storming off the field. Danny stretches his arm toward Scott, palm up and waiting. Grumbling, Scott reaches into his pocket for his room key and dropping it into his awaiting hand. 

“Fine, but I’m coming back the minute midnight rolls around.” He points a finger at Danny, who was smirking as if he daring Scott to do that. “Or maybe I’ll just crash at Isaac’s…”

They turn their attention back to the field when Stiles yells Derek’s name in protest, giving up the moment his form disappears into the school and heads over to the group. He sprawls on the grass at Danny’s feet, squinting up at him with a grin. 

“So have we got the room to ourselves then? I made sure to piss him off as soon as you got here.”

Scott’s mouth fell open and he made a noise of disbelief. Danny leaned down and gave Stiles a small kiss before standing up. The rest followed suit and they started to head back into the school, Allison jumping on Danny’s back with a laugh. The sun glares down on them as summer slowly approaches, hinting at days much brighter than those past and reminding Scott that things could be a lot worse than losing your bed for a night so your roommate and his boyfriend could make-out and stuff for a bit.

“Just don’t let me walk in on something similar to the last time, okay?”

“Hey!” Stiles says with a laugh. “It’s not our fault you came back at 11:58.”


End file.
